


Pretentious Synonyms for Black and Red

by Elendraug



Category: Xenosaga
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-05-01
Updated: 2007-05-01
Packaged: 2020-05-18 07:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19330036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/pseuds/Elendraug
Summary: Drabble collection with various ratings/genres. Mostly slice of life.





	1. in fields where we lay

**Author's Note:**

> Archival/old, but hopefully still enjoyable. Originally posted 5/1/2007-5/29/2007. Mirrored on AO3 6/23/2019.
> 
> Many chapters were inspired by pieces of fanart but because of the time that's passed, the artists' websites are no longer available, and I don't feel right including them without credit.
> 
> There are things I'd change if I did these again, but that's just more of a reason to write new work, right? AO3's also given me the ability to finally link to all the music I referenced, haha. Enjoy.
> 
> ♫ various

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ [b*witched - in fields where we lay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxMHxue7v3s)

**( 1 )**

Rubedo shifts slightly, nuzzling his cheek against Nigredo's shirt, and sighs contentedly. Crisp fall air rushes around them, teasingly stealing any heat that's not trapped between their bodies and beneath their coats.

Nigredo runs a hand through his hair and removes a leaf that'd gotten stuck. The ground is cool and flat, covered by a bedsheet-cum-picnic-blanket that has now wrinkled and tangled itself beneath them. Surrounded by the vibrant, rich oranges and reds of fallen foliage, they cling to each other for comfort and warmth -- not that the day is unpleasant, simply a bit windy.

Clutching a beloved book to his chest, Rubedo keeps his eyes closed and seeks Nigredo's hand. He locates his brother's forearm and slides his loose grip up until their fingers brush together. Nigredo clasps Rubedo's hand in his own, the simple, affectionate touch enhanced by freeflowing, easygoing psychic harmony.

Rubedo dreams of forgotten ships at sea and space; Nigredo dreams of elegant skyscrapers and philanthropy.

The wind rushes around them, and they are in peace.


	2. plastic stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ [freezepop - plastic stars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQsPSRKT68Q) | [acoustic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Yr1LEzfVWg)

**( 2 )**

Morning sunlight is bright and gentle, warming his face through the window. Jr. turns to press his cheek to the book he's using as a makeshift pillow, wriggling closer to the mattress in a half-asleep attempt to generate heat.

He's found that silk dress shirts make excellent pajamas. The one he's wearing now smells good ( _very good_ , he thinks, sniffing the collar and smiling), and looks good next to the green tie curled around his arm.

Yawning, he stretches his legs and stays right where he is.


	3. reconstruction site

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ [the weakerthans - reconstruction site](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJBEVgnND6k)

**( 3 )**

Second Miltia's traffic is bright and busy in the dimming sunset. Headlights shine softly through the tinted window that Rubedo is staring at. Chin on his knuckles, he watches everyone else speed by, watches the rest of the world go about its business.

He shakes his head, ending the twilit reverie, and turns to look at his brother. Yet another reason he's glad they don't have to drive; Nigredo needs these backseat naps. He doesn't rest enough otherwise.

Eyes half-lidded, Rubedo sends him a mental wave of warmth and affection. Nigredo smiles in his sleep and scoots over to rest his head on Rubedo's shoulder.

Feeling like his heart shouldn't fit in his chest, Rubedo fights the need to stroke his cheek, and lets him sleep.


	4. underneath the starlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2019 note: if you also think parks and plant life in space are noteworthy and cool, please watch [_Silent Running_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silent_Running)
> 
> * * *
> 
> ♫ [leann rimes - can't fight the moonlight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKsaWerTwt8)

**( 4 )**

The air has never smelled recycled.

Rubedo inhales deeply, savoring the scent of grass and trees and _real soil_ , and shifts closer to Nigredo. They're sitting together, leaning back against the fountain, the occasional water droplets leaping to land in their hair.

Nigredo curls his arm tighter around his brother, his partner, his best friend, absently rubbing small circles Rubedo's shoulder with his knuckles. It's warm and comfortable, and the brilliantly clear windows of the _Durandal_ provide a bright and beautiful view of the stars.

"Someone should find a way," Rubedo mumbles, nuzzling his cheek against Nigredo's chest.

"A way to do what?" he asks, happy and drowsy.

Rubedo kisses Nigredo's shirt.

"To stop time."

Nigredo kisses Rubedo's hair.

"I don't want to leave this moment, either."


	5. swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2019 note: I've written fics to this song [twice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/311714), lmao
> 
> * * *
> 
> ♫ [moby - swear](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAJeRWCX-08)

**( 5 )**

"Can I see yet?"

"...well."

"Oh, come on."

"If you insist."

Gaignun strides confidently into the room, head up and broad shoulders back, sauntering halfway to Jr. before turning on his heel. His jacket catches the wind caused by the sudden move and glides behind him. Completing the turn, he faces Jr. and grins dazzlingly, the light catching the exquisite, expensive details on his lapel and the meticulously styled spikes of his hair. His tie is adjusted just so, his clothing custom-tailored to a perfect, flattering fit. He _glows._

Jr. grins back, beaming at him almost uncontrollably.

"You. Look _hot._ "

The next thing he knows, they're kissing each other desperately. Jr. closes his eyes, runs his hands down Gaignun's fabric-covered chest, and shivers.

Gaignun exhales shakily against the corner of Jr.'s mouth.

"Why, thank you."


	6. drifting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2019 note: Cited text is from 1984
> 
> * * *
> 
> ♫ [enya - drifting](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xp5SxOhtIu0)

**( 6 )**

Rubedo sits on the bed, back supported by pillows propped against the headrest, legs stretched out and balancing a book. Books -- _real_ paper books -- are their favorite things. Nigredo curls against him, temple resting on Rubedo's thigh, sleepy and lying on his side.

"They were standing in the shade of hazel bushes," he reads aloud, words dulcet and soothing. "The sunlight, filtering through innumerable leaves, was still hot on their faces. Winston looked out into the field beyond, and underwent a curious, slow shock of recognition. He knew it by sight."

Rubedo adjusts the small light he's attached to the top of the book; the rest of the room is dark and calm around them. Nigredo nuzzles his cheek against Rubedo's pajama pants.

"An old, close-bitten pasture, with a footpath wandering across it and a molehill here and there. In the ragged hedge on the opposite side the boughs of the elm trees swayed just perceptibly in the breeze, and their leaves stirred faintly in the dense masses like women's hair. Surely somewhere nearby, but out of sight, there must be a stream with green pools, where dace were swimming?" Rubedo sighs happily. "I love this part."

Nigredo mumbles his own assent.

"'Isn't there a stream somewhere near here?' he whispered." He alters his tone of voice just slightly when different characters speak. "'That's right, there is a stream. It's at the edge of the next field, actually. There are fish in it, great big ones. You can watch them lying in the pools under the willow trees, waving their tails.'"

Rubedo absently, fondly, gently runs his fingers through Nigredo's hair, occasionally stroking his cheek instead, whenever the whim takes him. Nigredo makes soft, contented noises, and his breathing slows and deepens.

"'It's the Golden Country -- almost,' he murmured. 'The Golden Country?' 'It's nothing, really. A landscape I've seen sometimes in a dream.'"

Nigredo's head rests a bit more heavily on Rubedo's leg. Smiling, he shuts and sets down the book. Pulling the plentiful blankets up to better cover them, he settles more comfortably back against the pillows. Rubedo continues to pet Nigredo's hair until he, too, drifts into peaceful sleep.


	7. brick

**( 7 )**

He rests his palm against the wall, curling his fingers until the rough surface scratches off a small, powdery layer of his nails. These bricks have imperfections, blemishes on their surfaces; he adores that. More people should acknowledge and appreciate the flaws of the world. Despite what some residents of the Foundation think, he's always glad that he insisted upon traditional construction methods.

"Are you done fondling the bakery?"

Turning his head sharply, surprised, he stares at his brother for a moment before smirking.

"Jealous?"

Rubedo sticks his tongue out at him, and Nigredo takes the hint.


	8. amor inmenso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♫ [nek - la vida es](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08wJbk1kGOg)

**( 8 )**

"Your tie," Rubedo says, "is falling off."

"I," Nigredo says, "don't mind."

There's a recently-emptied bottle of liquor on his desk; between the two of them, it didn't take long to finish. Someone decided to search the UMN for music; Nigredo nods his head to the beat, and grins as he watches his brother.

Rubedo sways dizzily but happily to the thumping synthpop. He could be dancing, or he could be having muscle cramps. Neither is entirely sure which is the case.

Standing and joining him, Nigredo takes his hand and spins him around a few times, snickering helplessly as Rubedo loses his balance and falls back against his sibling's chest. Nigredo holds him and sways more, warmed by good drinks, good feelings, and good songs.

Soon enough, he too loses his balance, and they both topple to the bed in fits of laughter. Rubedo tries to hit Nigredo with a pillow but gives up halfway and kisses him sloppily instead.

Nigredo's tie lies in a small, wrinkled heap on the floor, dusty where it was stepped on.


	9. art

**( 9 )**

Rubedo exhales, warm breath leaving moisture on the smooth surface. He drags one fingertip down slowly, carefully tracing a heated mark, even if it'll soon be invisible.

"What are you doing?"

"Drawing."

Nigredo walks closer to Rubedo, catching him in a hug from behind when his brother steps back.

"Yeah?"

Rubedo moves one hand to grasp Nigredo's forearm, and the other to point at the Durandal's fogged window.

"Can you tell what it is?"

Nigredo rests his chin on Rubedo's head, snuffling his hair while considering the makeshift artwork.

"Well. ...hm. Either a headless, double-jointed 100-Series doing an interpretive dance, or a Zohar emulator."

Rubedo snorts and pulls Nigredo's arms tighter around himself.

"You're an ass."


	10. procrastination

**( 10 )**

Rubedo presses his nose against the pillow, flinging an arm over his eyes to shield them from the room's lights. He grunts, kicks at the sheets, and finally lies still. 

Nigredo sighs, leaning heavily on his desk, chin in palm. The list of files he needs to review and evaluate is truly daunting and absolutely unappealing. Unfortunately, it must be done.

He glances at his brother, then back to the screen. ...then back to his brother. He raises an eyebrow.

"You're not asleep."

No response.

Frowning but shrugging it off, he turns his attention back to his work. A wave of heat destroys his concentration, washing over him before quickly settling in the pit of his stomach. He lets out a short puff of breath, then raises both eyebrows and sends Rubedo another _look_.

"I hope this is amusing you."

Silence.

He spends another ten minutes sorting through various bland and boring business messages, deleting a third and replying to the rest. It's painstaking and tedious and--

Extremely enticing mental images suddenly flood his mind's eye. He buries his face in his hands, simply _stopping_ for a good minute or two. Disbelief and indigation eventually give way to desire when it doesn't end. He grudgingly moves a hand to touch himself through his pants; anything to sate it _just_ a bit...

...

"I _heard_ that! You laughed!"

Nigredo stands up, privacy be damned, and seeks revenge with a swift hundred-sixty-pounds-to-the-spinal-cord attack. He unloads an onslaught of his own carefully selected mental images while tickling Rubedo relentlessly.

"Ahhhh, _bastard!_ "

Nigredo leans down and kisses the nape of his neck.

"The work needs to get done at some point. Hopefully soon. So." He sits back up, using Rubedo as a somewhat satisfactory chair. "Either you actually take a nap and I do it now, or we do something else, and _you_ finish it later." He drags his fingers along Rubedo's shoulder blades, fabric soft to the touch. "Your call."

Rubedo squirms and rolls over beneath him, reaching for his tie and pulling him down.

"As if there was a decision to make."

Nigredo's honestly glad for the break.


	11. midmorning

**( 11 )**

Second Miltia is bright and full of hope, fresh starts, and relative freedom; sunlight streams in through the wide window of newly-Representative Helmer's new office.

Nigredo and Rubedo lie sprawled on the carpet, facing each other, close to the window and bathed in its sunshine. A portable screen is situated between them. They scribble and sketch with styluses, choosing new colors from a digital palette whenever the mood strikes them.

Rubedo draws trees and swingsets, green grass and blue skies meeting at the horizon. Nigredo draws the oceans he's never seen, extinct seagulls casting small shadows on the sand. Plastic against pixels scritches quietly, making slight, soft noises; their bangs brush when their foreheads touch.

Sunwarmth is soothing and sweeps over them. Artwork is postponed temporarily.

They nap until Helmer wakes them for lunch.


End file.
